


tommy’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

by socks_oda



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Secret Santa, Sickfic, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), ranboo to the rescue, twitch prime tommyinnit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socks_oda/pseuds/socks_oda
Summary: He felt absolutely terrible, but he didn’t want his brothers to worry about him, especially since they had their own jobs and themselves to worry about and take care of. His head was pounding loudly in his ears and it felt like his stomach was doing front flips. It was hard to tell if he was just nervous or feeling sick, but he assumed he was just feeling sick.or, tommy gets sick. his family doesn’t find out until it’s at its worst.
Relationships: TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 672
Collections: the writer's block's Secret Santa





	tommy’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

**Author's Note:**

> tw for vomit (not graphically detailed)

Waking up always seemed like the hardest part of the day, especially these days, and especially today. Staying under the heavy and warm comforter seemed like the best option if he wasn’t sweating heavily under said comforter. He was curled up and sniffling, snot running down his face from his nose.   
  


Tommy wiped his face with his arm and sniffled grossly. The clock on his bedside table read 7:45 AM, meaning he had to be up and ready for school in less than fifteen minutes if he wanted to be there on time.

He stumbled out of bed, pausing for a moment to lean on the wall as his head spin and vision went spotty for a few moments. A wave of nausea ran over him and he could feel bile in the back of his throat. There were a few silent moments apart from his breaths until there was a knock on his door and he heard Techno shout, “Get up, kid! You’re gonna be late.”

“Gimme a second!” Tommy shouted shrilly and huffed, pushing himself away from the wall and steadying himself once again. He glanced at the clock, noting that he had been simply standing there for three minutes trying to regain himself.

He felt absolutely terrible, but he didn’t want his brothers to worry about him, especially since they had their own jobs and themselves to worry about and take care of. His head was pounding loudly in his ears and it felt like his stomach was doing front flips. It was hard to tell if he was just nervous or feeling sick, but he assumed he was just feeling sick.

Tommy let out a breath and quickly changed into his day clothes, nothing very special since his school didn’t require a uniform. He figured a sweatshirt would do him good as well; it was currently snowing outside. Phil would likely shout for them all to bring their coats and gloves if he hadn’t left for work yet.

He opened the door, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt and walking down the hallway and past the bathroom. His older twin brothers, Techno and Wilbur, were standing at the sink and bickering with each other while Wilbur tried to do his hair and Techno brushing his teeth, spitting into the sink and purposefully bumping into Wilbur, who simply scoffed and bumped back into him. Tommy blinked, watching them for a moment before Wilbur noticed he was there and waved. “Phil made breakfast this morning, there’s still some down there. Hurry up and eat before you’re late.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and nodded, giving a half-hearted thumbs up. “Got it.” He turned away from the bathroom, ignoring the bickering starting back up and walked into the kitchen, where Phil was darting around with a panic in his eyes and his friend, Tubbo, standing awkwardly at the counter with a bowl of oatmeal. At Phil’s shout, he began to dig through the drawer of the counter in front of him, tongue stuck out in concentration before pulling out a set of keys and gasping. “Philza! I found them!”

Phil let out a sigh of relief, thanking Tubbo and taking the keys from him, then went towards the front door to put on his shoes, wobbling around on one food while trying to grab his jacket and hat as well. He glanced back, almost falling onto the floor but catching himself in his hurried manner. “Hey Tommy. There’s breakfast on the counter-shit! I gotta go, I’m gonna be late. Sorry! Don’t forget your coat and gloves and make it to school on time.” Phil rushed back into the kitchen, grabbing a pop-tart and putting his hat snugly on his head. He waved before practically running out the door, muttering to himself as he went.

Tommy and Tubbo exchanged a glance before they laughed, Tommy wincing at the pain it brought to his head. A headache certainly did not help his nausea and general feeling of sickness.

“Hey, Big T,” Tommy said, sluggishly moving towards the counter and grabbing another bowl of oatmeal that was sitting next to Tubbo’s. He looked down at it and made a face, deciding that it would be better to not eat the sludge. It certainly did not look like it would settle well with his stomach. 

“Hey,” Tubbo greeted, taking a bite of his oatmeal. “Dream had to work early today and couldn’t take me to school.”

Tommy nodded, pushing away his own bowl of oatmeal. “Yeah. He seems to be working a lot lately, huh?”

Tubbo shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. I need to try and find a part-time job to help him out since it’s just us. Your dad offered us some money and- don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it a lot!” he said quickly at the arched brow Tommy gave him, “but I know Dream won’t take that. He already feels bad that I’m here so often, especially for dinner and stuff…”

“Don’t worry about it, man.” Tommy pushed himself away from the counter, sniffling slightly. “You’re always welcome here. Wilbur and Techno like you, and Phil sees you as another son. So, yeah. Don’t worry. We have extra money to spare.” He made a face. “Enough of that sappy shit, I need to go kick Wilbur and Techno out of the bathroom and finish getting ready for the day.”

“You’re not gonna finish your oatmeal? Hey, you look kinda pale, you alright?”

Tommy looked back. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

The car ride to school did nothing to ease his nausea, but he kept his wide grin on his face and barked out his boisterous laugh whenever Tubbo would tell some sort of admittedly bad joke, but they both found it funny. 

Techno was sitting in the passenger seat, trying to clean his glasses and change the music to something he liked, but was only getting his hand slapped away by Wilbur, who insisted on listening to music from an indie rock band none of the rest of them had even heard of before. He claimed it was good music, but Techno could care less for it and simply whined about never getting to play his music, which was when Tommy piped up and said that his music taste was garbage, earning a loud laugh from Tubbo.

Tommy had grabbed a pop-tart on the way out of the house, but still hadn’t tried to eat it. Going over the bumps on the road and Wilbur’s absolutely terrible driving only made him feel worse and so very dizzy. When they parked outside the school, Tommy practically stumbled out and grabbed Tubbo’s hand, leading him to class and away from his embarrassing brothers.

Tommy sat down in his seat and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and stared down at the shiny surface of the pop-tart packaging. All the lights seemed to be so much brighter now and it was very overwhelming and not helping his headache. He had slipped a Tylenol in his hand before they left and took it in the car, but it had yet to kick in and somewhat help him.

His first class was with a teacher he didn’t particularly like (the feeling was mutual), and that only seemed to worsen his mood. He was crabby; snapping at anyone who tried to talk to him. Tubbo being in the same first class helped slightly, but he couldn’t help but get annoyed whenever Tubbo tried to speak with him or crack a joke, only earning a hard glare from the teacher trying to tell them to shut their mouths.

Eventually, though, Tubbo seemed to understand that Tommy didn’t want to talk anymore and laid off, his attention focused on trying to finish the paper that the teacher had passed out.

Tommy held his pencil loosely in his hand, his other hand running through his hair. He was hot, sweating profusely under his sweatshirt, but he didn’t want to take it off. His shirt underneath stuck to him grossly. Feeling his forehead, he could tell how warm it was and just confirmed that he was, indeed, sick and had a high fever.

He figured that he could go to the nurse sometime in a different class with a teacher that didn’t hate his guts or just suffer throughout the day. Going to the nurse was the smarter decision, but he decided that he would only go if it got to the point where he literally could not stay anymore.

The day passed as it usually did, passing friends in the hallway and stressing out over the amount of work that teachers assigned them. Tommy only grew more overwhelmed and felt terrible. Tubbo took notice of this, urging him to go to the nurse and go home, but Tommy just brushed it off and said he was fine when they both knew he was not.

The added stress of being behind on his schoolwork certainly worsened him.

He would usually be fine with P.E if he weren’t on the verge of vomiting the whole day. He still hadn’t tried to eat the pop-tart in his bag and it must be crushed up by now from moving around and his bag being shoved into his locker. 

He changed into his gym clothes, finally free from the suffocating sweatshirt, but he was still sweating. The teacher had them do a few warm up exercises, which Tommy reluctantly trudged through, heaving through his mouth, as his nose was stuffed and he couldn’t breathe out of it. His bones felt like they were jelly, only slowing him down. He was sloppy in his movements and panted, hush ands on his knees. One of his classmates, Niki, came over to ask if he was alright, to which he answered with a weak thumbs-up. She didn’t seem to believe him, but she offered a water bottle to him and left him be.

After the warm up exercise, they were to run laps around the gymnasium. Tommy knew he couldn’t go for much longer, the lights on the ceiling far brighter than the lights in the classroom and the large fans did nothing to cool him down. He wished he could just lie down on the floor and curl up. Perhaps take a nap.

He chugged half of the water bottle Niki had given him, then stood up to join the rest of his classmates scattered around the perimeter of the gymnasium and running. Some were in groups, chatting idly with their friends (Tommy had no idea how they weren’t out of breath), and some had earbuds in, presumably listening to music while they ran. Tommy, however, was alone. He was fine with that, he had no friends in this particular class. He didn’t see Niki as a friend since they had only spoken a few times.

After only a minute of running, Tommy tapped out and practically ran into the boy’s bathroom and shoving open the stall door. He fell down onto his knees and threw up, though it was just stomach acid since he hadn’t eaten. His head was spinning, the sour taste in his mouth causing him to recoil. He threw up another time and jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was a different person from his class, who he had spoken to quite a few times, Ranboo.

“You okay? You kinda just ran out of class,” he asked and stood up straight. He trailed off from his sentence, standing there and awkwardly watching Tommy hunched over the toilet and gripping the sides like his life depended on it.

Tommy said nothing, throwing up for a third time and praying that was all. He gagged at the taste in his mouth, just wishing the whole feeling of sickness would go away and that he would be fine again. He absolutely hated being sick. It made him feel so helpless.

Ranboo wrinkled his nose in disgust and gently helped Tommy up by looping his arms under the younger boys armpits and hoisting him up. “Uh, okay. Let’s go to the nurse. Wash your hands first though, this bathroom is gross. Please.”

Tommy nodded and stumbled out of Ranboo’s arms and towards the sink, his hands shaking as he washed them and was hardly able to stand up on his own. It felt as though he would collapse onto the ground at the slightest wrong touch.

He grabbed a paper towel and dried his hands, then stumbled back over towards Ranboo, who was waiting silently for him. The older boy watched before speaking again. “...need help?”

“No,” Tommy mumbled, then fell against the tiled wall, searching for something to grip on to and to ground himself. “Yes.”

Ranboo helped Tommy walk out of the bathroom and towards the nurse’s office. Since class was still in session, there weren’t many people out in the hallway and the people who were in the hallway gave them confused looks and continued on with their day. They tripped over each other’s feet a few times, but they never fell to the floor. Ranboo wanted to get back to class so he wouldn’t get in trouble, since he hadn’t told the teacher he was helping Tommy, simply asking to go to the bathroom.

They arrived at the nurse’s office, and Ranboo dropped Tommy onto the cot less gently than he would have liked, then spoke to Nurse Puffy about the situation. He was given a slip from her to give to his teacher, so he waved at Tommy, then quickly left to go back to the gymnasium. 

Tommy lied there uselessly, squinting at the light. Why was he so sensitive to the light today? He tilted his head when he heard Puffy’s footsteps and the opening of something that sounded like a fridge. An icepack was set on his forehead, wrapped in a washrag.

“Let’s see…” He heard her say and the clicking of a mouse. “There’s only one number listed on your page for emergency contacts, Phil. Is he your family?”

“Yeah, he’s my dad,” Tommy said, not bothering to correct his slip up.

Puffy hummed in response, then dialed the number onto the school phone and began to talk to Phil. Tommy zoned out, listening to her but not taking in her words.

Puffy leaned forward to take his temperature while she spoke, her eyes widening and reporting to Phil. They spoke for another minute or so before she hung up the phone and looked at the boy curled up on the cot. “Your father is going to come pick you up. I can have one of your classmates bring your things here, if you’d like.”

Tommy considered going to get them himself, but he could hardly sit up on his own, so he just nodded mutely and Puffy called the gym teacher, informing him of the situation as well and tasking one of the students to get his things.

A while passed, Tommy didn’t know how long it had been, but Ranboo brought his things to the nurse’s office and Phil arrived a few minutes after that, a frown on his face.

Phil helped his son out to the car, slinging Tommy’s backpack over his shoulder and planted a hand on Tommy’s shoulder to keep him steady and upright. 

Tommy practically fell into the car and Phil couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle before getting into the driver’s side and closing the door, then turning on the car and began the drive towards home. 

They stayed silent during the car ride, apart from the light hum of the radio, until Tommy finally spoke in a small, nasally voice. “Sorry that you had to leave work,” he grumbled.

“It’s fine,” Phil replied, keeping his eyes on the road. Tommy could tell he was being genuine, and appreciated that. “You can’t stay at school in that state, you know. Hell, you could hardly even walk back to the car. Why didn’t you tell me this morning? I would have let you stay home.”

“You were in a hurry,” Tommy mumbled.

Phil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. I’m sorry, I should have noticed.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Phil didn’t respond, staying silent for a few minutes before he finally spoke again. “If this happens again, tell your brothers, okay? Especially if I’m not home. I’m sure they can call you sick to school.”

Tommy hummed in response, and so the car was silent again. 

After another few minutes, they arrived back home and Phil helped Tommy into the house, seeming to be blasted by the warm air, a contrast from the cold winter air outside. Tommy was sat down on the couch and Phil told him to stay there before going to get Tommy’s schoolbag as well as his own satchel from the car so the important things wouldn’t freeze. 

He walked back into the house and set the bags on the kitchen counter and called out to Tommy. “Have you eaten today yet?”

“No; I felt too sick to,” Tommy called back, curling up against himself and letting out a breath. He could already feel the sweat on his back, causing his shirt to stick to him again. He felt hot and extremely disgusting. A shower sounded delightful right now, but he couldn’t bear to get up.

“Would you like to try to eat?”

“No, no, not yet. Maybe later.”

Phil hummed, rummaging around in the kitchen, presumably looking for a snack for himself, then went into the hallway where the house phone was. He kicked off his shoes and then he picked up the house phone, pressing the buttons to dial a familiar number. He tapped his foot on the floor and spoke in a soft voice. Tommy couldn’t pick up on what words he was saying.

A few moments later, Phil walked back out and sat down next to Tommy. It was silent for a while, though it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was a comforting, knowing silence. Tommy knew that Phil didn’t always have the words to comfort, and that was alright with him. Wilbur always seemed to be the one who was best with words and actions. Phil was better with actions, he felt. Techno….Techno wasn’t very good at comforting people, but he had his own way, Tommy presumed.

Phil put his hand on Tommy’s back and smiled warmly at him. “Don’t worry, you’ve got a doctor’s appointment tomorrow and we’ll get some antibiotics or something. Whatever they give you.” He waved his hand, almost dismissively. “Either way, we’ll have you feeling better in no time. At least, I hope.” Phil didn’t particularly like to be pessimistic, trying to stay optimistic most of the time, but he couldn’t but help it slip. Tommy hadn’t been this sick since he was very young; he was a scrawny and sickly child.

Tommy nodded, understanding. “Yeah.” He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, his nose beginning to feel like it was burning from the constant friction against the material on his sweatshirt. It hurt, somewhat. He seemed to be a lot more hyper-aware of pain, but he still felt so sluggish.

They fell into another comfortable silence before Phil sighed lowly and patted Tommy’s back. “Would you like to watch something on the TV? Maybe even a movie?”

Tommy’s lips upturned just slightly. “Yeah. That sounds real nice. Thank you for being there, old man.”

Phil nodded and then handed Tommy the TV remote. “I don’t know what’s on right now, but go ahead and look. I’m going to go grab my laptop so I can do some work while we watch..whatever you put on. I don’t care as long as it’s within reason,” he said firmly, a hint of humor in his voice. He then nodded once more and got up from the couch.

Tommy watched Phil walk away before he looked down at the remote in hand. The white lettering on the buttons had a slight glow to them whenever you picked it up. It hurt his eyes a bit. Light in general was just overwhelming on his eyes, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hang out with his old man.

It wasn’t often that they got to spend time with each other, much less the whole family spending time together. Wilbur was mostly out and about with his friends or working on his music. He’d talk about his dream for his music to be published some day and the rest of them supported him completely. Techno was usually in his room reading or studying, constantly fessing about his grades and how he was perceived. He usually ended up wandering downstairs and making a cup of tea, his hair messy and glasses about to fall off of his face. Phil worried about him for this, but he let Techno have his privacy and they managed to talk, making sure Techno stayed healthy and well and reminding him that his grades did not define him.

As much as Phil denied it, they all knew he had a slight favoritism to Techno. Tommy and Wilbur didn’t mind too much, if they were honest, since they were extremely close. Wilbur closer to his youngest adoptive brother than his own biological twin brother.

Phil was usually working, making sure there was enough money to go around so he could support his small family as a single father. He had those dark circles under his eyes, similar to Techno and Wilbur’s. They were deepers; he was constantly stressed. He tried not to show it, tried to keep his cool, but that wasn’t always the case. He’d listen to the boys’s constant bickering and raise his voice.

Tommy was usually with Tubbo, and they would usually be out and about as well. Going outside to the backyard, where there was an old treehouse left by the previous house owners and renovated by Phil at Tommy and Tubbo’s constant begging when they were very young. He reluctantly agreed, and so the boys spent most of their time there through their early childhood. They had found new spots over the years when Phil and Tubbo’s older brother had trusted them to go farther away from home. Once they had cell phones, they were all over town. Going to fields and running away from bees they had angered (at Tubbo’s dismay. He quite liked bees) and running through the neighbor’s sprinklers until they were sopping wet.

Needless to say, Tommy was excited to spend time with at least one of his family members.

Tommy flicked through the channels until he settled on a baking show, reminding him of how hungry he was. He was too nervous to try and eat, though. He hated throwing up, and especially hated the aftertaste and burning sensation in the back of his throat.

He set down the remote and stared at the TV, watching the people rush around the kitchen with panicked footsteps and mixing ingredients in with expensive mixers and whisks. He hasn’t baked very often, but he did enjoy the times he did. It usually ended with much bickering and flour all over their clothes, but it was fun and brought lots of laughs.

Tommy set down the remote and curled up into himself. A few moments later, Phil sat back down with his laptop and began to type. The clicking noises were rather calming, something to keep him out of his thoughts.

He sighed and shifted towards the window, which the couch was set up by. It was a bit chilly near the window, but he liked it. It cooled him down.

It was currently snowing outside, the ground covered in a sheet of white. There was already snow earlier that morning, but it would just pile on top of that and make the snower deeper. He quite liked running around in the snow, even if it seemed like he was too old to be playing out in the snow and petty snowball fights with his brothers, but he knew they enjoyed it too. Having a snowball fight or something similar to the sorts sounded nice and fun, but he wouldn’t be able to go out in this state.

Before he knew it, he was drifting off to sleep, the familiar mumbling on the TV and the click clacking of the keys on Phil’s laptop lulling him into a fairly peaceful sleep.

“Wake up, kid,” Techno’s familiar voice said and a cold finger jabbed his cheek.

Tommy opened his eyes, wincing at the sudden brightness of the light in the living room and in the kitchen. Techno stood over him and stared with his dark eyes, holding a bowl in his one hand and his other hand jabbing Tommy in the cheek. “Fuck off,” he murmured, “your hands are awfully cold.”

Techno hummed and pulled his hand away, then gave Tommy the bowl. It was a bowl of potato soup, which Techno had likely made himself. It was one of the meals he was able to cook successfully.

“It’s dinner time already?” Tommy asked, setting the bowl in his lap and rubbing his eyes. Dark spots filled his vision for a moment before he looked to see Wilbur and Phil lounging on the couch next to him and an empty space where he assumed Techno was sitting.

“Yeah.” Techno grabbed his own bowl from the coffee table and sat down, crossing his legs and leaning back into the couch. Spoons clinked against the edge of the bowl, irritating Tommy slightly, an irked expression all he let out. 

Tommy looked down at the bowl in his lap, which was warming his legs. He lifted the bowl and scooped some of the soup onto his spoon, blowing on it to cool it down and then putting it in his mouth. It tasted wonderful, as it always did.

Wilbur set his bowl down and looked at Tommy, waving towards him and then frowning. “Why didn’t you tell us you were feeling bad this morning?”

Tommy didn’t respond for a moment. He really didn’t have a reason to why he didn’t tell them this morning, at least, not a completely valid reason to not tell them. Instead of responding verbally, he just gave a half-hearted shrug.

Wilbur sighed. “You have to tell us, Tommy. What if something happened?”

Tommy huffed and continued to eat his soup instead of talking anymore.

Everyone else seemed pretty content to continue and finish eating dinner while watching whatever was on TV. It had been changed from the baking show Tommy was watching earlier before he fell asleep. He didn’t know what this show was called and it did not interest him, so he just listened to it as background noise while he focused on playing with his food and eating it slowly so it wouldn’t upset his stomach. At the very least, he didn’t feel as terrible as he did earlier. He still felt sick and dizzy, but it was less than before.

Phil got up and took their bowls into the kitchen after they all finished eating what they wanted of their soup (Tommy had eaten about three fourths of his soup before deciding he shouldn’t eat anymore for fear of throwing up again) and then came back to the couch. Techno and Wilbur were cuddled up close with each other, Techno half asleep and leaning on his twin brother. 

Phil put his arm around Tommy’s shoulder, so Tommy leaned against him and looked up at his adoptive father. Phil smiled softly at him and ruffled his hair, then wrapped his other arm around Wilbur and pulled him, and consecutively Techno, towards him.

The four of them laid there together all night long, quickly falling asleep to the light hum the the TV in the background and soft breaths. The blizzard continued howling outside as the family curled up and slept comfortably in their small, warm home.

Tommy couldn’t have asked for a better family.

**Author's Note:**

> follow my twitter @socks_oda


End file.
